


A Soft Place to Land

by salamanders_please



Series: Therilia [2]
Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, i will warn you rn i did not know how to end this lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:34:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26532928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salamanders_please/pseuds/salamanders_please
Summary: Therion's slept in a lot of strange places over the course of his life. In Ophilia's lap is definitely an unexpected first.
Relationships: Ophilia Clement/Therion
Series: Therilia [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1929319
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	A Soft Place to Land

A gentle breeze toys with the hair that falls over half of Therion’s face. His eyelids are drooping and he looks moments from sleep. The shade from the treetop above them shivers.

“Having a nap attack, are we?” Ophilia nudges his shoulder with hers.

He hummed. “Something like that.”

“Sleeping while sitting up can’t be very comfortable.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done it.” His eyes are already closed. He pulls up one legs and rests his arm on it. He leans back against the tree.

Ophilia can’t contain the swell in her heart. Normally, Therion is always the last to sleep in their group. And when he does, he was a very light sleeper. That he trusts her this much, brings a smile to her face. Even though he still acts aloof most of the time, he really has changed. Her cheeks warm as she remembers she remembers how he’d saved her that night.

She supposes she should repay his kindness. She closes the book in her lap and sets it aside next to her gloves. She shifts, folding her legs underneath her – smoothing her robes. She pats her thighs lightly.

Therion cracks an eye open at her. “Are you drumming me a lullaby?”

Ophilia giggles. “I can if you want me to.”

“I think that would actually make it harder to sleep.”

“Good thing that wasn’t my intention then.”

“What was your intention then?

Therion turns to her fully, and it’s then that Ophilia realizes that she hasn’t considered how hard it would be to say aloud.

“Do your legs hurt?” He quirks his brow – confused, concerned.

“Eh?” She blinks at him confused.

“You’re rubbing them,” he points out glancing down then back up at her face.

“Oh.” She starts, stills. She hadn’t realized that she’s been stroking her bare hands up and down in an unconscious ritual to wordlessly transmit what she is trying to communicate to him. “They don’t hurt. I was just...”

“Just what?” Therion tilts his head, trying to study her face as she turns it away from him.

She can feel the heat rising to her cheeks and spreading all the way to her ears. “I thought it might be more comfortable than sitting up.”

“...Your lap?” His voice is pitched slightly higher than usual.

She squeezes her eyes shut. She can’t bear to look at him. She’s regretting every choice in her life that lead her to this point. “I can rescind the offer any time.”

What follows is the most agonizing pause in Ophilia’s life. She hears Therion swallow.

“Is this a joke? Are you getting me back for all the times I’ve teased you?”

She opens her eyes, unsure if the fragile hope she heard was just her own wishful thinking. She just has to sneak a glance. _Has to_. Her heart flutters. Therion’s green eyes are lowered. His hands pick at the grass. He’s pulled the corner of his lower lip into his mouth. A faint pink hue dusts his cheeks.

“It’s not a joke.” Ophilia does her best to sound reassuring despite the waver in her voice.

She sees the bob of his throat as he swallows again. He appears to be waging an internal wrestling match before he scoots forward and leans slightly towards her. “You sure?”

She nods rapidly.

He lays his head down. Or at least he almost does. She feels the tickle of his hair more than the weight of it. He’s watching her face so carefully – searching for any sign she might change her mind – that this is just some kind of cruel joke. His entire face is red now. His eyes are wide.

 _Of course this isn’t a joke_ , she thinks, her inhibitions dissolving – overridden by her desire to reassure him that this new and unfamiliar act of intimacy is very much real and not the cruel joke he fears it is. She places hand on his chest – almost no pressure at all. Her lips curve upwards. He finally relaxes enough to lead his head fall into her lap. He’s still watching her for any sign of a lie. He’s never looked so vulnerable. Not to her.

Her own heart drums unsteadily against her ribcage. She feels like she’s seeing a unicorn – something rare and magnificent. Her expression melts into unadulterated fondness. A dull wind blows his hair over his face. Without thinking – wanting only to burn the shy curl of his smile into her mind for even just a little longer – she brushes his hair back. But she brushes it all the way behind his ear. He stiffens as the old scar that runs the length of the left side of his face is revealed.

Therion turns his face to hide it and finds his cheek cupped tenderly in Ophilia’s hand. She brushes her thumb over the discolored tissue. He jerks in her lap. She freezes.

“S-sorry.”

“It’s okay” tumbles out of his mouth before she can even think to pull her hand away. “It’s okay,” he repeats. “It’s just… new.”

“Okay. ” Ophilia doesn’t know what he’s referring to – someone touching his scar or stroking his cheek. She decides it’s more tactful not to ask. “Let me know if you want me to stop. Weren’t you going to sleep?”

She feels his laugh rumble beneath her other hand. “I don’t know if I could now, if I wanted to.”

Ophilia frowns. She pauses the affectionate combing of her fingers through his hair. “Why not?”

She feels his fingers close around the hand that’s still on his chest. His expression is unmistakeably fond as he brings it over his heart. Its wild rhythm matches her own. Tentatively, affectionately, he runs his calloused thumb over her knuckles. _Oh._ Warmth blossoms inside her. She wonders that if she leaned forward, if she could bend low enough to taste his shy smile. Would he even want her to? It’s a thought that’s been banging around in her head ever since that night. The night that all the feelings she’d only been distantly aware of – the night those feelings were yanked out of hiding and she had to accept there was no going back.

She tells herself that his racing heart was likely simply due to nerves. He was probably unfamiliar with physical intimacy of any kind. She would never want to push him and make him uncomfortable. But that doesn’t stop Ophilia’s mind from going places.Were his lips soft? Or were they rough like the thumb he’d pressed over her mouth.

The Fool’s Bangle jangled loudly – the cursed thing – even over their pounding footsteps slapping through the slush. For someone whose main occupation involved so much closing her eyes and praying, Ophilia was awfully observant. She was also the only one among them who never drank. Therion cursed that too. His companions had insisted on accompanying him to Northreach and while he appreciated their offer of help and it wasn’t exactly that he _didn’t_ trust them… they would only get in the way.

As anticipated, Darius had been expecting him. The city was swarming with his people. They couldn’t hope to take them all on by themselves. A quiet infiltration was better. Get in, get out unseen. So he’d tried to sneak out on that night in Stillsnow. He felt mildly guilty, but he figured Primose’d still have six other people there to help her. Unfortunately, it turned out she’d have only five.

He was touched that Ophilia wanted to help, really. But this was too dangerous. He should have left her behind on the road. She could use magic. She would’ve been fine getting back.

“I know you’re trying to protect us,” Ophilia had said, “but you’re being incredibly foolish.”

“Foolish is my middle name.” Therion waved his right hand at her to emphasize his point. The silver bracelet glinted in the moonlight. “I’m going alone.”

Then her brows crossed and she looked angrier than he could ever remember seeing her. Even through the darkness her gaze pierced him and rooted him to the spot. “I won’t let you get yourself killed.”

“What do you care?”

Ophilia stormed right up into his face. “Because I care about you.” She was close enough that he could see now beneath the anger was something else. Fear. Genuine fear for his safety.

Therion’s chest tightened. “Then maybe you should be the one wearing this bangle,” he muttered. He turned and kept walking down the trail.

Ophilia doggedly continued to follow him, but he didn’t again try to convince her to leave.

But oh how he now wished he had. He could hear her ragged breathing behind him as she struggled to keep up. His grip on her wrist tightened. He truly deserved to wear the mark of the fool. He never hated himself more than in this moment. He should have never have given in. Never let her follow him. Now he’d put Ophilia in mortal danger just because – because – she made him feel like there was just a little more room for optimism. That he could hope he’d get out of this alive against all odds. And then he could spend more time by her side and learn the names of all the strange things she made him feel.

Therion yanked her down a random alley. The shadows of the building pitching it in black. She nearly slipped on a patch of ice. He kept pulling. Halfway down it there was a little nook where the backs of two building had doors leading into the alley. He pulled her under a flight wooden steps leading the the back door of the second storey and shoved her against the wall.

“Wha--” Ophilia started.

“Sh.” Therion grabbed her chin with his left hand and silenced her with his thumb over her mouth. He slid his right hand up between her dress and her cloak, obscuring the Fool’s Bangle from sight.

She obeyed, trembling like a snowflake. He kept his eyes on the way they’d come. Footsteps were fast approaching. A couple of Darius’ goons veered into the alley, carrying torches. Crap. Therion tugged Ophilia close, angled them so the only view from the alley was his back. She gasped in surprise and her hands flew up to clutch at his coat. She made a noise as his nose roughly bumped hers and his mouth crashed against his thumb.

Her eyes squeezed shut as the one man paused to illuminate them with his torch. The other kept running down the alley.

“Ugh. Get a room,” the man complained before following the other out the other end of the alley onto the next street.

Therion’s eyes slid closed and his and Ophilia’s foreheads touched as they both slumped together with relief. Therion eased on the pressure, their mouths no longer pressed hard into a near-kiss. But they stayed like that for a long while – still close enough to feel her warm breath on his face and the pad of his thumb resting gently on her lower lip – until the rap of pursuing footsteps was just a memory.

“Therion?” His name was barely a breath that passed her lips.

“Are you okay?” He opened his eyes and kind of wished he hadn’t. He was a new kind of nervous now. He expected her to push him away at any second.

Ophilia merely nodded. The action brushed her nose against his again and touched her upper lip to his thumb. Her lashes fluttered as she opened her eyes and met his gaze, her face flushed and mouth parted slightly. Gods, he wanted to kiss her so badly – like _really_ kiss her. And if he wasn’t mistaken, she was leaning into him – the fingers clenched in his jacket drawing him closer. But he probably was. No, he was sure he was. Because why would someone like her want to be close to someone like him?

“Sorry,” he whispered. He removed his hand from her jaw as if it had scorched him.

“Don’t be,” she whispered back.

And even though she had said that, he was waiting for the moment she was going to shove him back and act all disgusted that he’d invaded her space like that. He even tried to shift away, but she held fast onto his clothes. Why wasn’t she letting go? She must be shaken.

“Ophilia, I think they’re gone for now.”

“Right, of course.” Her hands slowly unclenched.

It was definitely wishful thinking that her eyes dropped to his mouth as he stepped away. It was too dark to see anyway. No way it actually happened.

“This is still nice, though,” Therion says.

“Okay.” Her eyes crinkle warmly at the edges.

He closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath.Ophilia’s fingers comb gently through his hair. It’s soothing. He could almost fall asleep. Until her fingertips circle the edges of his face, trailing along his jaw. He swallows the catch in his breath. His heart skips. He knows she can feel it. Her other hand is still on his chest. She runs her fingers over his brow, over the space skipped by his scar. Up and down the bridge of his nose.

Therion struggles to relax. Reminds himself this is nothing special. He’s seen Ophilia cuddle up to H’annit and Primrose before. Seen the way they hold hands or play with each other’s hair affectionately. Her shivers as she traces the shell of his ear. He hadn’t even known he was sensitive there. _Breathe_. This doesn’t mean anything, even though the stupid, hopeful voice in the back of his head is reminding him he’s never seen Ophilia do this with any of the other men in their group. Nor has he seen her trace shapeless patterns over anyone else’s face. There’s nothing romantic about this. Nope.

But he’s never been touched this way before. And he can’t imagine letting anyone other than Ophilia touch him so kindly, so _affectionately._ Gods, it’s both terrifying and exciting. She has to know what she’s doing to him. Her hand is right there. She has to be able to feel every flutter and skip in his heartbeat when her hand draws so close to the corner of his mouth or lingers on his chin. And oh Gods he so desperately wants her to know, and at the same time absolutely terrified of her response if she does. His hand still rests over hers on his chest.

He tries to just let his mind clear and enjoy the sensation of her touch. It’s working, kind of, even though she seems especially fond of his jawline. Her finger drags lazily under his mouth, _breathe_ around its corner _breathe_ , under the space beneath his nose _breathe._ Therion’s breath catches – despite being certain it’s unintentional – when Ophilia’s finger runs across his lower lip.

Her hand jumps to his hairline. She must have realized her mistake. She goes back to running her hand through his hair again. Though his heart hasn’t really calmed, he manages to steady his breathing again. He’s a little disappointed when her hand stays in his hair.

And then she says, her hand going still, “Do you ever think about when you pulled me into that alley in Northreach?”

His eyes snap open. She’s not looking at him. “Are you asking because _you_ think about it?”

She sucks her lower lip into her mouth and it’s a painful reminder of how close he’d been to tasting it himself. “It’s the closest I’ve ever come to being kissed.”

“But I didn’t kiss you.” It’s more defensive than Therion intends. His mind spirals through all the possible directions this conversation could go, and none of them look good.

“I know.” She sounds forlorn almost, which can’t be right. “But it made me curious.”

He sits up, relinquishing her hand – no longer wanting Ophilia to feel so acutely how this conversation is affecting him. He scoots so he’s facing her, trying to get a read on her expression, but she ducks her head. His pounding heart beats loudly in his ears.

“About kissing?” he asks. _Or about kissing me?_

She nods. She lays both her hands in her now empty lap. “I know it’s foolish.”

“How is it foolish?” Can’t be more foolish than wishing Ophilia would want to kiss him, the least worthy person to receive her adoration. “I think it’s pretty normal.”

“You do?”

Therion wonders why his opinion on this topic even matters to her. “Yeah?”

Ophilia’s eyes are wide. She leans a little closer. “Have you ever kissed anyone, Therion?”

Despite knowing he should have expected this question with the way the conversation was going, Therion finds himself at a loss. He opens his mouth to speak, and for a moment the only sound that comes out is a quietly strangled note.

Ophilia notices his hesitation which seems to put her in bit of a panic. She sits back on her heels. “Sorry. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I don’t mean to pry.”

Therion can almost hear Cordelia scolding him in the back of his head. _Part of trusting people is opening up to them_. Or something like that. And if there was anyone in this group he trusted not to think less of him or somehow use the information against him, it was Ophilia. Knowing that intellectually didn’t stop the doubts or make the words come any easier. But he wanted to try. For her sake. He could still feel the ghost of her gentle touch on his skin. As much as it was a difficult question for him to answer, it couldn’t have been easy to ask either.

Therion clears his throat to keep it steady. The memories were already resurfacing. “I’ve kissed a few times. A couple different people. It was a long time ago, though.”

“What was it like?” Her face is all guileless curiosity, with a hint of red on her cheeks.

He sighs, pulls his knees up to his chest. He loosely wraps his arms around them. He stares at the tree behind Ophilia, tracing the spaces between the strips of tree bark with blurry lack of focus. “It sucked, to be honest.”

“Oh.” That one syllable carries with it a hefty amount of disappointment. “I apologize. I did not mean to dredge up painful memories.”

“It’s fine.” He picks at a fingernail. “Like I said, it was a long time ago.”

“Nonetheless…”

His mouth is running on its own, and he’s finding it difficult to stop. “I wanted some company, I guess. I tried a couple times, but... Closing my eyes and trusting a stranger like that. I couldn’t do it. Not after what happened.” He’d panicked and run away. Every time. From their hungry mouths and their purely lustful touch. Why is he even telling her this?

“Well, I am grateful that you were willing to sacrifice your comfort for my safety, though for your sake, I wish it hadn’t come to that.”

 _For my sake?_ “It’s different with you,” he says without thinking. He goes rigid with the realization of the words that just tumbled out of his mouth.

“Eh?” Her eyes go comically wide. Her lips purse slightly as she starts picking at grass. “In that case, if it had come to… actually kissing me in that alley. Hopefully, you would not have found it too unpleasant?”

Why does she care? He gives her a strange look. “I don’t think you would have liked it if I had.”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been kissed before. But…” She takes deep breath. Smooths her robes over her thighs. “I don’t think I would have minded.” Her voice is tiny, but he doesn’t think he imagines it when she adds “...if it were you.”

All the moisture in Therion’s mouth evaporates. He swallows a dry, hard lump in his throat that collides with his heart on the way down. He raises a hand, the pads of his calloused fingers touching Ophilia’s cheek – just to make sure this is real. Slowly, he glides his hand along her face until his hand is cupped around her jaw. She leans into his touch gently. She’s warm and solid but this still doesn’t feel real.

“You wouldn’t have minded if I’d kissed you?” His voice is layered with frail hope. He unconsciously guides her closer.

“Did you want to?” She leans towards him.

He thinks he must be delusional for seeing the same hope mirrored in her eyes. He lifts up his other hand, frames her face in his two trembling hands. “Did you want me to?”

“If you’ll permit me to be selfish.” Ophilia’s lip twitches in the barest of smiles. There’s no mistake this time – in the broad of daylight: her eyes flick down to his mouth.

He doesn’t deserve this. Doesn’t deserve her. But he wants it. Gods, does he want it.Before the spell breaks and the moment shatters, before he can lose his nerve, Therion shakily bridges the gap between them. Ophilia meets him halfway. Her mouth is soft and eager and full of a warmth that fills his entire being. He intends to burn the clumsy caress of her lips on his into his memory forever.

“Sorry I ruined your nap,” she says, deliciously breathless, when they pause for air.

“Don’t be.” He smiles against her mouth, stealing another kiss. “This is much better.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not making promises I'll actually write/finish these, just gauging interest: but is anyone interested in Therilia sex pollen/smut and/or in-universe zombie apocalypse?


End file.
